


The Perils of Lust (When There Are Lurking Squids)

by Sylvesha



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bestiality, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Other, Semi-Public Sex, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 03:43:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14416950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylvesha/pseuds/Sylvesha
Summary: Hermione needs to let off a little steam during her fifth year, and ends up with a little more assistance than she'd originally planned.





	The Perils of Lust (When There Are Lurking Squids)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dresca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dresca/gifts).



> I saw this prompt when skimming through the Chocolate Box requests months ago: _Masturbating near the shore of the Great Lake, Hermione's actions catch the attention of the Giant Squid which is happy to assist her with a tentacle or ten._ \- and it stuck with me until I wrote this. 
> 
> I then waited to make sure it actually made sense (I wrote it all in one sitting late at night AND drunk, so), which is why there's a delay.

It was a dip in the shoreline of the Black Lake, barely noticeable unless one was most of the way around it towards the Hogsmeade side. Surrounded by trees, it dipped down into what Hermione had decided must have once been a creek feeding into the lake that had since dried up as something further back in the Forbidden Forest shifted. Perhaps the spring had clogged, or the Centaur had diverted the water for their own purposes. Not that it mattered. What was left was a secluded little nook that she had discovered back in first year, not long after the troll incident.

A place where she could hide herself away from her classmates, a place where no one could judge her for spending hours reading or doing her homework.

For that first year, it had been a crude little shelter, mostly bare ground, though she'd dragged an old blanket she'd found in the Quidditch locker room there and used it as something to sit on--spread out, or folded into an excellent throne (not that she readily admitted the throne idea to herself, as she was old enough to be past such childish things as pretending to be a Princess). A carefully researched and applied preservation and water-proofing charm had kept it from turning into something gross, and she renewed the charms when she needed to.

Once or twice, she considered telling at least Harry about her refuge. But she didn't trust that he wouldn't tell Ron, and as much as she and Ron generally got on, she still appreciated having a place he couldn't track her down to badger her to do his homework for him, or explain that concept, or demonstrate this spell he'd messed up in practicals.

As though that were her only worth to him. In her darker hours, she thought it might even be true. Harry saw her differently, the second friend to his tiny circle, clung to more because he needed friends than because, perhaps, he liked her.

By the end of her third year, she'd improved on the shelter, chivying the plants to grow densely enough to conceal it from the casual glance. Applying her newly-gained knowledge, she added careful protection and concealment runes to ward off unwanted visitors. It was a much more effective deterrent than bug spray, she'd discovered rather gleefully, as she lay in her little glade, watching the flies and gnats smack into the barely noticeable shimmer of her wards.

Things such as squirrels and cats, she hadn't minded so much. Though she did keep a strict eye out for Professor McGonagall.

It was also one of the first places she allowed herself to masturbate.

There was something forbidden and exciting about sliding her fingers into her knickers and probing at herself in the middle of the outdoors. No one could see her, but she could see them, in the distance across the lake. Sometimes, she heard nearby groups of students, laughing and talking.

She learnt to be quiet about it. To bite her lip when her body tightened and all she wished to do was whimper and cry out. To hold her breath or to swallow down the cries when she reached climax.

It was too awkward to masturbate in the dorm room. Even with her bed curtains closed and a silencing charm up, she felt as though her dorm-mates would _know_. Parvati and Lavender were such gossipy busy-bodies, Hermione wouldn't put it past them to have some sort of charm up so they'd know. They'd certainly giggled over the boys wanking in their showers more than once.

Far too much information, as far as Hermione was concerned. She had no interest in whether Ronald Weasley liked to rub one out every morning or if Seamus came with crude curses and cries.

Which also left out their shared loo. If the girls were somewhat aware of the goings-on on the boys' side of the dorms, she wasn't certain that the reverse wouldn't be true. Certainly, their head of house and the wards probably prevented that sort of thing (even the voyeurism on the girls' side). But it wasn't something she was keen to test.

Besides, it was hard to really get comfortable in there.

Not like at home, when her parents would be gone at work during the summer and she could lock herself in the bath with the movable shower head. And hadn't _that_ been an amazing revelation? Pulsing spray, steady warmth pouring over her vulva and tickling her clit, and a build up that left her back arched and her eyes seeing stars. She'd had a hard time being quiet, there.

Once she'd worked out that part, she'd tried her fingers. Fast, then slow. Up, around, down. Sometimes, she thrust one or two into herself. Other times, she ignored the gratification of feeling her muscles pulse and focused just on her clitoris.

It was slower, of course, less intense. But still quite satisfying.

And when she tried it in her little nook at the lake the first time, it was almost perfect.

Over time, she perfected her technique and then began to experiment. She was already quite good at transfiguration, and turning a small twig into a dildo was a simple task. From there, she worked out the charms she would need so that it would work without her directing it. Getting that right was more trial and error, of course, some of it less pleasurable, though she was always careful to start it thrusting against something that wasn't her own vulnerable bits.

By Fifth year, she had it down to an art, and knew exactly how often she could sneak away, set her wards and warming charms and use various implements to penetrate and drive herself to climaxes that left her must more relaxed than simply reading would have.

She experimented with shapes and sizes, finding that shorter lengths with thicker girths and a little bit of ribbing gave a much better feel than slim and long. Hitting herself on the cervix was a painful experience she didn't intend to repeat if she could help it.

If there was a little bit of squishiness, that worked out even better.

And then she discovered something even better.

It had been a long and frustrating day, with Umbridge belittling her work and decrying the idea that blood didn't matter (but in a subtle way that Hermione couldn't just point to and say "She's being prejudiced" - it was something other muggle-borns would understand, but pure-bloods like Ron didn't even see). And then Ron had whined about his homework and Harry had been sulking about something. Probably not knowing everything the Order was doing.

And she had had enough. She'd snapped something about going to the library and stalked out. Behind her, Ron had said something unkind about bookworms and their attitudes and she'd resisted the urge to whip round and hex his bollocks off.

But oh, had it been tempting.

She'd changed her course, then, swapping the library for the late autumn evening.

Chilly as it had been, it was still better than the stuffy Gryffindor common room surrounded by idiots and sycophants (of Harry or whomever was the current Quidditch Flavor of the Week). She'd waited until she was a good distance and then taken off, running and running until she couldn't breathe and the sweat had been coating her face and soaking the back of her neck.

Then she'd walked, carefull to not be seen, not that many were out anymore, given the chill in the air. At least three couples were canoodling, though, in easily found places. She nearly stopped to take points or give them pointers on their notice-me-not charms.

But they did give her another idea for relieving her frustrated tension, and she slipped round the lake until she found her little nook.

It took a few moments to activate her wards and charms, now much better work than her clumsy post-third-year wards. Then she pulled the blanket from its place and shook it out, before spreading it on the ground.

Kneeling on it, she considered her options, wondering for an instant why she couldn't have at least one male friend who would be willing to exchange sex for nothing other than each others' mutual pleasure. But it was a fleeting thought as most of the boys of her acquaintance were that - boys. And anyone older was older by decades rather than a few years.

While she might occasionally entertain the idea of shutting Sirius Black up by sitting on his face (his tongue was certainly wicked enough to be satisfying), the age difference wasn't something she was willing to let slide while she was technically underage. Not to mention, that she didn't know where he'd been and there would need to be a full medical history worked up not to mention some sort of detox and delousing regimen.

Though it was certainly a _nice_ fantasy. As the slight breeze dried the sweat on her neck, Hermione let her eyes drift closed and slowly began to unbutton her blouse. Once it was open, she pulled up her bra, not bothering to unhook it yet.

A warming charm kept the little dell warmer, but not warm enough to keep her nipples from hardening in the temperature change. She sucked in a breath and pinched both of them several times in quick succession. If she'd allowed herself sound, a soft little moan would have escaped.

The day disappeared into a swirl of half-formed thoughts and fantasies.

Sirius on his knees, kissing his way up her legs. Ron slipping his hand between her legs, fingering her in class. Harry letting her bend him over a table, testing out the newest transfiguration experiment. Sitting on a desk fingering herself slowly while Lavender ate out Parvati. Others, faceless men, some women, sometimes just hands or mouths ghosting over her skin. Someone's deep voice murmuring dirty things into her ear.

_You like my fingers in your pussy, don't you._

_There's a girl, so eager to ride my cock. Take all of it, baby. That's it. Tighten that cunt all round me._

_I'm going to fuck you, but first, I'm going to clean that dirty little cunt with my tongue._

Quickly, she unzipped her skirt and pulled it off, tossing it to the side, adding her blouse and bra a moment later. Her fingers tugged at the waistband of her knickers, then she slid one hand inside, cupping herself.

She was already damp, and her fingers stroked through her folds, teasing and testing for a moment before she focused on her clitoris. This would be a swift climax, driven hard by the men and women in her head, by the phantom hands and lips on her skin.

There was something decadent about being near-naked, with her hand inside her panties. No one could see, but if they could...

A shiver went through her at the thought of someone _watching_. She bit down on her lip, keeping the sudden desire to moan inside. Merlin, someone watching her finger herself. Someone thinking of her doing this over and over again, using it as his or her own wank material. The dirty image they stroked or fingered or fucked themselves to.

Hermione didn't normally want to be thought of as wank material, but right at that moment, it was the perfect idea which sent her over the edge.

The climax was swift and sharp, and she slowly bent forward, letting herself rest on the blanket, hand still between her legs.

She was sensitive, now, and wriggling her hand made her twitch.

Pushing back up a little, she turned onto her back and lifted her hips to slide her underwear off. Adding it to the pile of clothing, she stroked her hands from shoulders to breasts the belly to thighs and then back up. Arching a little, she did it again, relishing the breeze and how good it felt against her skin.

A sound came from her right, and she ignored it.

Peripherally, she'd been aware, even the year before, that the squid liked to watch her. At least, it had felt like it was watching her. Always slowly drifting over as she got herself off, always there when she rested. The dell she was in bordered a deep spot in the lake. One of the reasons she'd assumed there had once been a creek or stream, as it seemed the have dug deep into the lake-bed over the years.

It was deep enough for the squid to lurk, its head and sometimes tentacles just above the surface. Not enough to draw attention from anyone else.

Sometimes, it even extended an appendage into the air, as though _scenting_ what she was doing.

And sometimes, she had half wondered what it would be like for something the size of a tentacle to slide into her vulva. It was larger than most of the dildos she'd transfigured, and the shape had inspired several after the first time she'd considered it.

Thinking about it now, she wondered again what it would be like.

A rush of warmth between her legs made her realize that the idea was more than tantalizing.

She reached up and pinched her nipples, tight, quick movements that would have hurt if she weren't already aroused. It wasn't quite enough, though, and she shifted to slap first one, then the other, working up the rhythm until she found one which had a slight sting.

When something stroked along her calf, she assumed it was part of the her fantasy.

Pulling up her leg, she opened herself to the imaginary lover.

Something slipped around her ankle, then began slinking up her leg. At the same time, a second something stroked her inner thigh, nudging and prodding as it worked its way towards her center.

Hermione pushed up on one elbow and opened her eyes in shock. Two of the squid's tentacles were feeling her up. She'd expected them to be slimy, but they weren't. They were a little cold, and definitely didn't feel like human skin. The one on her ankle tightened, pulling her leg to the side further.

A third snaked up to hover over her belly, then dropped down to wrap around her free leg.

She could have reached for her wand. She could have screamed. Hermione was entirely certain she could have gotten away from the squid without too much difficulty.

She didn't try.

Her hand dropped to her vulva, and she stroked two fingers into herself, then began circling her clit as she watched the tentacles.

The one between her legs finally reached her vagina, and the tip brushed against it, burrowing.

"Like this," she whispered, surprised to hear herself even as she nudged the tip with her fingers until it was nestled against her entrance.

She breathed in, held her breath, then let it out. "Please."

And just like that, the tentacle plunged into her, slowly and surely, filling her up until it could go no further. She let out a moan, unable to help herself, unable to think at that moment, even describe the feel of it inside of her. It was not like anything she'd ever felt before and yet utterly exactly what she'd needed.

It slid back out, and she whimpered.

It plunged back in, then out, working itself into a swift rhythm that had her grateful she'd already come once. The lubrication wouldn't have been enough otherwise.

Dimly, she was aware that other tentacles were slowly moving over her, caressing her. But all she could feel was the fullness between her legs, with her fingers still working at her clit. A tentacle pushed against her mouth, and she found the feeling unexpectedly thrilling. She'd imagined sucking on a penis, finding the hard length between her lips--the tentacle, she thought, might actually taste better, if what she'd read was to be believed. Her mouth opened, and it plunged in.

The taste was vaguely strange, but not something that truly bothered her. Not when the tentacle in her vagina wriggled just a little as it thrust.

A moan escaped her as the squid worked its tentacles to fuck her.

There was no other word for it, and she arched into them, delighting in the feel as more and more stroked over her, her skin tingling.

Something small brushed over her fingers, and she let it join them at her clit. A sucker, she thought dimly, as it fastened down and _sucked_. Pleasure flared along her nerves.

The thick appendage in her mouth sped up its thrusting, almost making her gag as it shoved itself in further and further.

For a brief moment, she wanted to panic at not being able to breathe and then it backed off. Just enough, enough that she could breathe through her nose. Sucking in great gulps of air made her light-headed, which just added to the sensation coursing through her.

A tentacle tightened around her waist, another slid across her breasts, teasing her nipples as it dragged the suckers underneath across them.

The orgasm hit unexpectedly, and she wondered dazedly as she writhed against the tentacles, as they _pulsed_ in her mouth and pussy, if it could get any better.

Feeling limp as a wet flannel, she slumped to the ground and just let the squid stroke her slowly down from her high.

Eventually, the tentacle in her mouth pulled free with a pop. The others were still wrapped around her, attached to, or buried inside of her, and she whimpered a little as she realized that she was sensitive enough to _feel_ them.

"Merlin," she mumbled.

The word seemed to trigger something, and the tentacle inside of her gave a little wriggle, causing a delightful aftershock.

"Thank you."

With her breath finally slowing, Hermione pushed up on one elbow and gazed at the squid. Its head was turned so that one eye was looking at her. It seemed to be bigger and rounder than normal, but she hadn't studied a lot of squid biology outside of acknowledging they weren't normally magical creatures. Perhaps she should pick up a book on them the next time she was back home.

Leaning over, she fumbled for her wand. She needed a cleaning charm or two if she was going to get dressed again.

Her fingers closed around the wood just as the tentacles still wrapped around her tightened again. Before she could do more than yelp, she found herself turned over, legs stretched wide, and arms locked to her side.

"Wha--" a tentacle pushed into her mouth, muffling her objection as another stroked along her bottom, wriggling against the cheeks and then between them.

She'd read about anal sex, certainly. And considered it, but she'd never actually put anything through her anus. Her eyes widened as the tip of a tentacle stroked over it, then withdrew slightly.

A cold, slick feeling pooled over her lower back and buttocks, some of the viscous liquid slipped down where the tentacle was. It undulated, coating itself in the lubricant before it pushed into her sphincter. The movement was slow and surprisingly careful. It wriggled in and out several times, continually coating itself and her until it was fully seated inside of her anus.

Hermione wondered wildly for a moment what it was using as lubricant, then decided it was a magical squid and she probably didn't want to know and she would wash very thoroughly, if she survived this.

The tentacle inside of her vagina pulled out, then thrust violently back in.

Hermione gave a surprised cry around the tentacle in her mouth, writhing against the triple intrusion. Whether she was trying to get away or encourage further movement, she couldn't tell as the tentacle against her clit sucked harder, pulsing and rocking.

For just a moment, she wondered how she'd gotten herself into this position, and then all thought fled as the squid's tentacles thrust and moved, pulsated and wriggled. They tightened and flexed around her, rolling her slightly as though she were floating in water rather than suspended in the air.

It was amazing, and her body tightened around the tentacles, shattering into another orgasm. She didn't get a reprieve, the squid was relentless in driving her into another one almost immediately.

For a moment, she envisioned how she must look, spread-eagle with a squid tentacle-fucking her. Every orifice filled in some fashion. Not the sort of thing she'd ever considered much less thought about. A fleeting thought about bestiality made her giggle and then caught between a laugh and a moan, she succumbed to the pleasure.

A second tentacle began to wriggle its way into her cunt (Hermione was past thinking of clinical terms when she was being ridden hard), the first pulling out all the way as the second plunged inwards. They began trading off, one thrusting in as the second retreated.

She was too full, the stretching sensation _hurt_ , though that added to the stimulation as well, and she found herself rocking her hips, trying to get them both in at the same time.

Transfigured dildos were nothing like the real thing. Or the tentacle thing, at least.

Hazily, she wondered if the squid would eventually tire of using her body. What it was getting out of the intrusion into every orifice it could manage, she wasn't sure.

Tentacles weren't penises, after all, there was no release, no semen exploding inside of her. Unless it got muscular strain (and she was really going to have to look up squids, did they have muscles, or was it all tendons?), she could be stuck here all night.

Another climax washed over her, and she found herself losing consciousness from the intensity.

* * *

Hermione came back to herself in bits and pieces. The scent of moss, lake and her own arousal filled her nostrils when she breathed in. The slight itchiness of sweat-sticky skin against her blanket (which itself felt uncomfortably damp). A breeze stroked along her skin, bringing goosebumps and cold in its wake. Her fingers flexed around the handle of her wand.

Of course. Her wand. She could have used her wand to free herself from the squid.

She shifted from her side onto her back, muscles protesting the movement, and groaned. Hips, back, stomach, everything was stiff from lying too long without cooling off from the marathon masturbation and tentacle fucking.

A laugh escaped her, dry and uncertain, and she could feel tears pricking her eyes as she blinked them open.

Above her, the night sky was deep, the stars sparkling and wheeling with their normal majesty. Dimly, she wondered how late it was. Past curfew was nothing new to her, not after the last five years in Harry Potters' company.

But with Umbridge, it could be worse than a few points taken and a detention.

Remembering the lines carved into Harry's skin, she shivered.

With care, she slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position and began stretching her arms and legs. Reaching up, she touched her lips and found them swollen and chapped. Slowly spreading her legs, she tentatively touched her vulva. There was a deep ache and a chafing feeling. She gently stroked the area, probing for cuts or scratches.

Relieved to find nothing, she rolled a little and moved her hand lower. She was slick and sticky everywhere still, and she made a face. There was a long soak in the Prefect's Bath for her tonight, that was for sure. She'd be able to check herself over in the mirrors as well.

It was far too dark to see if the squid had left bruises, but as a precaution, she cast a quick glamour charm designed to even out skin-tone before she stood and slowly got dressed.

The squid was no longer lurking near her little cove, and she wondered if it had gotten what it had wanted.

She was too numb to decide how she felt about their encounter. Not with the creeping worry about Umbridge and Harry, not to mention Voldemort and his plans to destroy or at least take over the Wizarding World.

Once dressed, she cast several more charms on herself: scent-deadening, silencing, warming and finally a disillusionment.

It should all hold until she was back inside the castle and safely ensconced in the Prefects' Bath.

Walking became easier as she went on, but the first several feet were staggering, lurching things as her limbs simply didn't want to work.

Taking down her wards at the edge of her haven, she closed her eyes for a moment, wondering if she would return.

It would be a choice for later, she decided, and didn't scratch and burn away the runes she'd carved into the boundary stones.

Later, after she'd had time to sleep and think about it.

Later, after she decided whether she could risk being fucked by the squid again.

Even if she wanted it again.


End file.
